Dr. Franken-Fur wanted an alpha predator.
He got one.
Unfortunately, she expected to be carried.
Meet Bougie the Werepom, the Pomeranian–werewolf hybrid joining LilTuki’s Howl-O-Ween Misfits. She has genuine wolf instincts, a cunning little mind, and the unwavering belief that a moonlit hunt should come with comfortable transportation.
Her ambitions are feral. Her paws have standards.
The Making of Bougie the Werepom
High atop Spires Claw, Dr. Franken-Fur believed he had finally found the perfect candidate.
The Pomeranian before him was confident. Commanding. Entirely convinced that everything within sight existed for her convenience.
Before the procedure began, she refused to sit until he folded his spare coat into a cushion.
He recorded this as dominance.
Here was a creature already behaving like an alpha. Surely, with the instincts of a werewolf, she would become the fearsome pack leader his laboratory deserved.
Beneath the full moon, the coils flashed. Glass rattled. Bougie’s fur rose into a magnificent mane. Her claws sharpened. Two excellent fangs appeared beneath her tiny black nose.
The Doctor leaned forward.
At last. Terror.
Bougie lifted her face toward the heavens, filled her tiny lungs, and released her first bloodcurdling howl.
“Prrrrrrrr.”
The Doctor checked the equipment.
Bougie checked whether anyone had heard.
“A warning,” she said. “You were fortunate.”
The Call of the Wild Has Conditions
Determined to salvage the moment, Franken-Fur flung open the laboratory door.
“Go! Stalk the darkness! Answer the call of the wild!”
Bougie crouched.
Something stirred beyond the trees. Her ears pricked. Ancient instincts surged through her tiny body. For one glorious moment, every part of her agreed.
Pursue.
She charged across the threshold—
—and stepped on into a puddle.
One paw rose slowly.
“You might have mentioned the conditions.”
Within the hour, the Doctor had surrendered his coat, his best chair, and the soft lining of a specimen basket.
From her new accommodations, Bougie watched him revise his notes.
Subject exhibits exceptional command ability. Unfortunately, I appear to be under her command.
Classified Misfit Dossier: Experiment 007
- Name: Bougie
- Designation: The Werepom
- Species: Pomeranian–werewolf hybrid
- Official title: Her Royal Fur-ociousness
- Occupation: Director of Pack Affairs and Personal Comfort
- Special ability: Cunning persuasion, strategic flattery, and exceptionally effective eyelashes
- Greatest achievement: Getting carried to an ambush she organized
- Fatal flaw: Her werewolf instincts make commitments her pampered Pomeranian body cannot honor
- Signature malfunction: Attempts a terrifying howl. Produces a kitten’s purr.
- Catchphrase: “I said hunt. I never said walk.”
Threat assessment: Secure your biscuits. Expect to lose your chair.
A Tiny Werepom with Very Big Expectations
Do not mistake Bougie’s comfort requirements for a lack of intelligence.
She knows who responds to flattery, who needs encouragement, and who is hiding the good treats. A flutter of eyelashes and a carefully chosen compliment can accomplish what the Doctor’s shouting cannot.
Her plans often work.
It is the running afterward that requires assistance.
Bougie can organize the hunt, position the pack, and identify the perfect moment to strike. A few determined steps later, she raises both paws toward the nearest available carrier.
“Keep moving. We’re losing them.”
She sees no contradiction.
Leadership, apparently, is portable.
Beneath the Fluff, She Loves Her Pack
Bougie wants to be formidable. Being called adorable immediately after her fiercest performance is an indignity she takes personally.
But beneath the vanity, she cares about her fellow Misfits.
She will negotiate enough treats for everyone, then insist she was merely improving morale. And when a friend truly needs her, she will step into the mud.
She will complain.
She will expect a towel.
But she will go.
Dr. Franken-Fur’s Final Assessment
“I intended to create a creature that would bring the world to its knees. She has made me kneel three times today. Twice to pick her up. Once to retrieve her biscuit.”
Another triumph for science.
Another reason the Doctor has nowhere to sit.
Bougie the Werepom. Feral but purse-able.
Meet the rest of LilTuki’s Howl-O-Ween Misfits and discover the canine chaos coming out of Spires Claw.
Would your dog lead the midnight hunt—or demand to be carried?
One scientist. Too many monsters. Absolutely no obedience training.
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